


I'm Not Calling You a Ghost

by bigspicysenpai



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Allusion to Jack's OD, Baker Eric "Bitty" Bittle, Canon typical use of drugs/alcohol, Domestic Fluff, Eric "Bitty" Bittle Didn't Go to Samwell, Haunting, Horror Elements, M/M, Minor Injuries, Pre-Poly, Russian! Bitty, Skeptic vs Supernatural, Witch! Bitty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23572249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigspicysenpai/pseuds/bigspicysenpai
Summary: Jack Zimmermann was at the top of his game in the NHL. Back to back cups, an amazing (secret) boyfriend, and all the trophies and awards that came with it.His third season, however has been plagued by bad luck, injuries, and worst of all, bad stats.When Alexei leaves on a roadie, the proprietor of Alexei's favorite bakery tells Jack that perhaps something more sinister is going on. But that couldn't be possible, could it?
Relationships: Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Jack Zimmermann, Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Alexei "Tater" Mashkov/Jack Zimmermann, Shitty Knight & Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 21
Kudos: 50
Collections: Going Out With A Big Bang 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this for the Going out with a Big Bang! Can y'all believe this amazing comic is ending? I certainly can't. Let's send it off with a smash of new content! Though I suspect I'll stay in this sandbox for a lot longer! 
> 
> Title comes from Florence and the Machine's "I'm not calling you a liar"
> 
> Also for some reason I chose to only feature Completely made up NHL teams for this fic? I think I just wanted to make up silly names for 'em.

~~

_White stone, blue flowers._

_Oak table, dimly lit room._

_Outline of a person._

_Metal kettle, steam rolls from the spout._

_Stone bowl, silver spoon._

_Viscous red liquid fills the bowl._

_Perhaps blood?_

_Figure smiles wide, baring its teeth._

_Jack drinks from the bowl._

_Lips are pressed against his own. Soft and wet._

_Winter bites against his skin._

_The floor vanishes, he falls._

~~

_X_

“ _Merde!_ ” Jack jolted awake, sitting up in bed. He felt a stabbing sensation along his right side. His abdomen was ablaze with pain. He remembered the events of the previous night. Three broken ribs and two bruised. The result of a pretty brutal boarding from one of the infamous Aeros’ goons. Apparently they earned a power play goal out of it, but he was already out of uniform for the night, being wrapped up in bandages, being told for the third time this season he was going to be taking time off. It fucking sucked. 

“ _Nyet, Jaya!”_ Tater said. “Sorry, Jack. She is trying to climb back to bed after I feed her breakfast.”

Tater’s dog (their dog) was sprawling on the floor with the comforter tangled around herself. That explained the cold. She must have yanked it off while Jack was dreaming. Anje yipped at Alexei’s scolding, and rolled around in the covers. She was a graceless clown of a mutt, but she was cute and affectionate, so she was a good match for Alexei. 

  
  


“How your side feel?” Tater asked, taking his place on the bed next to Jack. 

“Tate, I just broke half of my ribs. It feels like shit.”

“Is only three I think.” Tater smiled, placed his hand over Jack’s and kissed him on the cheek. He brushed his fingers gently over the wet mark. “Take things very easy today, okay?”

“Yeah, I promise,” Jack begrudgingly agreed. “It just sucks, you know?” 

“Trust, _Ziya,_ I’m knowing the feeling.” Tater put his other hand over Jack’s right hand. Alexei massaged the joints with his big fingers. “Having to miss end of cup final was torture.”

Jack hummed in agreement. Alexei’s work eased the tension in his hands. It was nice, having someone that knew where the aches built up in his mind and body, because he had experienced them similarly. Having a boyfriend in the same line of work meant they understood most of what each other was feeling. Alexei ran his hand up Jack’s arm, carefully making sure to ask Jack if he was hurting along the way. He ended up working out Jack’s shoulder, until Jack’s alarm went off for a mandatory skate. He’d forgotten to turn it off.

“Blech,” Alexei groused at the alarm. “Wish I could stay and keep you happy _.”_

“I feel like I should be used to being out injured, but I want to be back as soon as possible.” 

“Of course, Jack,” Alexei said, nodding. “But, today you focus on resting."

"Tell 'em I said hi, and — that I'm doing alright, eh?"

"Can do, Zimmboni." Alexei leaned in and kissed Jack once more, on the lips this time. "Be back soon." Alexei left for practice, Anje hot on his heels to the door. Jack decided to scrounge for his breakfast. 

A smile rose to Jack's lips when he saw that Alexei had made him his cheat day shake and left it in the fridge. A post-it with a smiley-faced heart adorned the lid. 

He lowered himself gently onto the couch, flipping on a documentary he'd seen a million times before. No hockey highlights while someone was injured was a house rule. 

_«_ _4 juin 1944 à la pointe du Hoc, Normandie. Les soldats américains commençaient leur première attaque, pour la libération de la France. Le Jour J._ _»_

Jack eventually got cozy as the pain in his side diminished to a manageable burn thanks to the applied topical cream. 

Anje sprawled out parallel to him on the floor. Jack scratched her curly hair absentmindedly. The Falcs had a roadie coming up that Jack couldn't go on. His parents were coming for a couple days. Which meant he had to go downstairs to his apartment and dust. Maybe Jack should spin a yarn about how he’s staying at Tate's so Anje didn't have to get kenneled for the week. Or he could just tell them — he’s dating a teammate again… He didn’t want the lecture. 

Jack sent a text inviting the Boston Hausmates over for an apartment cleaning and Falcs watch party. Hopefully they could make it. Cleaning up alone would suck. 

Jack took a sip of the shake, savoring the flavor of maple and cinnamon, accenting the high-fat, vanilla frozen custard. Alexei had definitely poured heavy on the syrup, it was a tinge sweeter than Jack's preference. He wanted it to be just sweet enough to cover the whey protein. Still, it was thoughtful. 

Jack shut his eyes for about five minutes before his text alert for Tater woke him up. Evidently that new bakery had finally opened in their neighborhood. Alexei had been anticipating its opening for weeks.

**Tate** : Yeast by Southeast is finally having big opening!! )))))

**Jack** : Haha, that's great. Bring something home, okay?

 **Tate** : Of course!!!! ))))))))))))))))))

Jack hoped Alexei wouldn't be disappointed. Providence was a relatively small city, so authentic European stuff was a lot harder to come by, unlike Boston. Though if it was good, Tater would never want to move, and he'd probably support the business single-handedly.

Jack fell back asleep, the monotonous narration of the documentary relaxing him immediately. Fortunately, he had no bizarre dreams like he’d had in the morning. He awoke when Alexei returned from practice. Jack squinted as his eyes readjusted to the daylight. Anje was bouncing at a box Alexei was carrying as he tried to force his way past her in the door. 

“Need help?” Jack asked.

“No, no, is good.” Alexei said, finally managing to push through into the apartment. He set the box down on the counter. 

“How much did you end up buying from that bakery, Tate?” Jack maneuvered off the couch, only wincing once. 

“Not too much, I wanted to start with one of everything, but since we have roadie tomorrow, I stick to favorites.” 

“That good, eh?” Jack crept slowly towards Alexei and looked at the box over his shoulder. Eight pastries lined with decorative paper looked back at him.

“Oh, yes.” Alexei said, he pointed to each pastry and told Jack what they were. Very typical Russian flavors. Salmon and egg, garlic and cheese, apple, poppyseed, blueberry and lemon, nothing incredibly fancy, but all the classics that were sure to please. 

“Also,” Alexei started. “You should come meet owner, _Erinya_. Very nice guy. Cute, blonde, southern accent, but he’s also speaking native level Russian. Opened this bakery with his Babushka’s recipes.”

“He didn’t know you were a hockey player?” 

“Nope,” Alexei said, making the pastries-in-box count seven. “He’s never follow hockey. He knew about Cup wins, but not know who players are.” Alexei made a contented noise as he chewed. “You want bite?” 

“Which flavor is it again?” 

“This one is cheese garlic piroshky.” 

“Doesn’t sound like it will mix well with my vanilla protein powder.” 

“Suit yourself, _Ziya_.” 

“Maybe I’ll come when you go next, meet this cute baker. Do they have espresso?” 

“Think so.” Alexei replied through his full mouth. “Wasn’t looking at coffee, just bakery.” 

Jack caught a whiff of the garlic wafting off the pastry. “Ugh, make sure you brush your teeth after.” 

Alexei smirked and puckered his lips dramatically. “No welcome home kiss?” 

“Nope.” Jack said, turning away. “I’m going back to my documentary.” 

“Fine, then I’m not saving any for you.” 

“An apple one might be good later,” Jack hinted. 

“Bakery is only a few blocks away,” Alexei chirped.

Jack huffed a laugh and walked back to the living room.

Jack re-established his presence on the couch. He heard Alexei leave the kitchen and go into their bathroom. Jack’s side hurt. He just wished the injury hadn’t happened. He was starting to feel like a deadweight on the team’s salary cap. Hopefully when he was back he would start putting up points right away. He was determined to. You don’t go from back to back Cup wins and double Art Rosses to being at less than 10 goals in the following season. He had some serious catching up to do if he even wanted to be considered for anything other than the Masterson trophy this year. Not that he couldn’t be happy with that… 

“ _Ziya,_ is time for brain to be off.” Alexei appeared from the bedroom and took up a position next to Jack on the couch. “You thinking hard enough to make steam.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“You make very obvious face when lost in thought.” Alexei said, matter-of-factly. 

“I do?” 

“Yeah, is look like this.” Alexei narrowed his eyes, squinting at the wall. He stuck out his tongue and jammed a finger in his ear. He looked absolutely ridiculous.

Jack chuckled lightly. “I do not look like that at all, Tate.” 

“I wish I could cuddle the negative thoughts out of you like usual,” Alexei said. When he kissed Jack, his breath was minty. He must have brushed his teeth after all. 

“It’s the thought that counts. Plus, you made me laugh.”

“They say is best medicine.” 

“Yeah.” Jack pushed lightly against Alexei’s shoulder. “Have you packed for the roadie?”

“Mostly, but,” Alexei looked at his phone. “I want to spend as much time as possible before leaving for the week.” 

“Sweet of you,” Jack said. His phone vibrated. “Looks like Shitty is coming to keep me company until my parents get here Wednesday.” 

“If you want to tell them–”

“I want to wait a little longer before my dad starts telling you all my embarrassing childhood stories.”

“Fine, fine.” Alexei reached his hand over Jack’s shoulder, pulling them together. He leaned gingerly, not putting enough pressure to aggravate Jack’s side. It was a far cry from the usual crushing hugs and body presses Jack had grown accustomed to. Alexei was making do with what he could, given the circumstances. Alexei’s tactile affections were what made Jack feel so safe with him. Who needed a weighted blanket when you slept with a giant muscular teddy bear?

“So the baker is cute, eh, Tate?”

“Yep, you’d love, he was a figure skater before.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Mhm, he recognized me from last name. Showed me photo of him with my mom!” 

“Oh, haha, he didn’t know you played hockey?” Jack asked. 

“I figure skate first, when I was very little, but no, he was not even knowing about NHL team here.” 

“That’s kinda funny, but at least you have a new friend to speak Russian with, eh?”

“Yes, plus many more pastry to try when we are back from roadie.” 

“Maybe I’ll show up at the airport with a box for the guys.” 

“You can just get box for me, _Ziya_. No need to share.” 

Jack huffed a laugh at Alexei’s remark. He slid himself gently closer to his boyfriend’s arms. He was pretty sure he wasn’t ready to share their relationship with the world yet. He’d already been under the lens of the media for every action they could possibly scrutinize. He wanted to keep this small comfort between them, at least for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The French in this chapter is literally just Narration of a D Day documentary. I guess this is Jack's WWII nerd version of ASMR.


	2. Chapter 2

_X_

Jack groaned, waking to flare ups of pain across his torso as he lifted himself from the mattress. Alexei’s side of the bed was cold. They had beaten the Victoria Valkyries handily, but were stuck on the road in the Pacific Northwest for the next week, playing the Schooners and the Privateers in Seattle and Portland before returning home. 

Mercifully, Jack wasn’t totally alone with his thoughts. Shitty was probably still passed out in the apartment somewhere. Jack finished slowly easing himself out of bed to mix Anje’s food and put a pot of coffee on. 

When he passed into the living room, Jack noticed two things: Shitty, sprawled out on the couch, totally nude, and Anje, on the floor beside him, methodically tearing apart a pink striped box. One of these things was normal.

Jack’s brain processed the information slowly. Gears spinning in the morning fog, when they finally clicked, he realized that box was the one Alexei had brought from Yeast by Southeast just two days before. 

“Hey!” Jack whisper-shouted at Anje. The dog looked up at him, grabbing a chunk of the box and bolting from the room. 

Jack sighed loudly, corrected his breathing and started collecting the scraps of cardboard from the floor, careful not to wake Shitty.

Jack reached under the coffee table to grab at a piece of the box that Anje had littered across the room. There was a sudden tug at the hem of his pajama pants, prompting him to jump in shock. Which caused him to bash his head on the underside of the coffee table. 

“ _ Câlisse de marde!” _ he exclaimed in a mix of pain and surprise. Anje yipped and dashed off again. Jack sighed loudly and scooted himself back out from under the table. They really had to get this dog enrolled in some obedience classes… 

“All good?” Jack heard from behind him. 

“Yeah, sorry for waking you, Shits.” 

“S’fine, what happened?” 

“Dog got a hold of this box Tater brought home the other day. Not seeing any crumbs though, so it was probably empty.” 

“Oh, shit.” Shitty said, sitting up. “That was probably my fault, I went in on the last couple pastries in there after you went to bed. Passed out and must have left the box here.”

“I wondered how she got up on the counter, guess she didn’t really.” 

Shitty scratched his mustache, thinking. “When do Bad Bob and Mrs. Z arrive?”

Jack swiped open to the text thread from his mom. “5 P.M. provided there aren't any delays or missed connections.” 

“We should totes go get more of those pastries.” 

“We do have to clean the other apartment at some point.” 

“Jack, that lemon blueberry thing was so fuckin’ good I cried and almost texted my grandma crossfaded.” 

“And this is unusual for you?” Jack asked, hoisting himself up to Shitty’s eye level. There was only so much naked Shitty he could abide by at a given time. 

“Brah, I’d move into your other apartment if it was a decent commute to Boston. I need those in arms reach all the time.”

“Shower up and get dressed then,” Jack said. 

“Aye, aye cap’n Jack.” Shitty offered him a hand in standing, which Jack managed with only minor twinges of pain in his side. Jack headed to the kitchen to go about what he’d intended to before he found Anje with the box. He crumpled the pieces of cardboard and tossed them into the recycle bin. He got out the french roast beans from the freezer and the grinder he had brought up from his apartment. It was going to be a long week. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've not looked up Quebecois swear words yet, do yourself a favor and google that, it's an absolute delight.


	3. Chapter 3

_X_

Jack and Shitty rounded the last corner before they reached Yeast by Southeast. It had been under construction for months before finally opening. They must have been redecorating the entire interior, maybe even installing gas lines. Jack had no clue what the building had been before. He never paid attention to it until Alexei pointed it out to him. Pastel pink and white awnings alternated titles in English and Russian. The outside was smooth white stone, detailed with floral murals. Those were new, weren’t they?

They felt familiar to Jack somehow. His eyes focused on the detailed lace painted around the outside of the flowers. It was mesmerizing. The patterns drew his eye to the center, then back out again. The flowers swirled and flowed across the whole of the building. Shitty’s hand waved in front of Jack’s face. 

“Brah, you good?” he asked. Jack pulled his eyes away from the walls of the bakery. Shitty looked confused. “Do you still want to go in?” 

“I’m just–” Jack said, looking back to the mural. “The flowers are really nice.” 

“Eloquent as ever, my man.” Shitty said, patting Jack’s shoulder. “Let’s get in there and get at those pastries.” 

Jack pushed the door to enter the bakery. Or rather, he tried to, but was met with firm resistance. 

“Heavy-ass door.” Shitty commented as Jack pushed through. 

They entered the shop, Jack noticed the decor straightaway. A lot of wood, simple whites and blues, tiny vases with silk flowers. It was rustic and charming, similar, yet complimentary to the outside. Several small tables huddled to one side of the room, near the front sat a copper colored espresso machine, and the smell of smoke indicated a wood oven being used somewhere in the back. 

“Certainly feels like I’m in Europe,” Jack said to no one in particular. 

“Welcome!” a voice called from the back. “I’ll be right with y’all shortly!” 

Jack’s eyes were drawn then to the counter. A wide array of pastries were set out on various trays, doilies, and platters. He recognized some of them from what Tater had brought home, though the names of the pastries were anglicized versions of their Russian names. Colorful stickers dotted the labels, though Jack was also uncertain of their meanings. 

For all the strange things that made this bakery totally different from any other he’d been to, it also felt homey for some reason Jack couldn’t quite identify. The familiarity of the European interior playing with the natural light and the cramped dining area must be reminding him of Montreal. 

“Dude, this place is wild,” Shitty said, gawking at the pastry case. 

“It’s certainly something.” 

“If it wasn’t for the price tags I’d think we stepped into a fairy tale, brah.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” The voice stepped out from the kitchen to the storefront. “Didn’t think I’d have anyone coming in at this part of the day, so I started mixing some dough for tomorrow, couldn’t really step away, but now I’m rambling.” The man looked at Jack and Shitty, a light flush covering his cheeks. This must have been the guy Alexei mentioned. He looked down at his shoes, breathed deep, then looked back up again.

“Welcome to Yeast by Southeast, how can I help?” the man asked, looking intently at the two of them again.

“Our friend came in here the other day,” Shitty said, sparing Jack from having to talk around his relationship with Tater. “I kinda ate the last of the pastries he bought, so I want to replace them.”

“Oh alright! That’s thoughtful of you,” he said, moving to the pastry case. “Do you remember what he had?” 

“Well we definitely have to get more of the lemon-blueberry things and apple probably?” 

Jack looked over the case to see if he recognized some of the stuff Tater had said were his favorites. 

“Cheese and Garlic, I remember,” Jack said, thinking back to the night Alexei brought them home. “Alexei is gonna eat literally anything we bring from here though, Shits.” 

“Oh, y’all are ‘Lyosha’s friends?” the man lit up at the mention of Alexei’s name. “I’m Eric by the way, I grew up watching Alexei’s mom on TV, so I just about talked his ear off the other day, but I digress, so you boys are hockey players too? ” 

“Jack Zimmerman here is a teammate of Alexei’s. I played with Jack in college, the names’ Knight, but friends call me Shitty,” Shitty explained. 

“Lovely to meet you boys. I thought y’all would be gone longer, Alexei told me he was shipping out for the West coast.” 

Jack’s mood dropped at the thought of not being with the team. “They did,” he said. 

“But you’re–” 

“Stuck here with an injury,” Jack replied icily.

Shitty gave Jack a look that said  _ dude you’re being a dick, _ narrowing his eyebrows below his shades. Jack was fed up with being questioned about how his team fared without him, so he stayed quiet. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry, that must be just awful, not being able to travel with them,” Eric said. “Back in my figure skating days, I — sorry, babbling again. You want lemon-blueberry, apple, and cheese-garlic, what else? Maybe something hot to drink? You’re looking a bit chilly.” 

“I’ll take an americano,” Jack said; he felt like he needed some caffeine just to keep up with this guy. 

“I’d love a latte with caramel, my good dude,” Shitty added. 

“Sure thing, make yourself comfortable and I’ll get those right up.” 

Jack and Shitty installed themselves at the table furthest from the counter and waited. Several minutes later, Eric arrived with the coffee. 

“I made up a box with the stuff y’all mentioned, but let me know if you need anything else. We have soup, salad, and sandwiches if you’re in need of something more filling than desserts.” 

“Fine with the coffee, thanks,” Jack said taking a cursory sip. “Just here to get what Tater wanted.”

“Right,” Eric said. “Y’all know where to find me.” He walked off behind the counter, leaving him and Shitty alone. 

“What the hell, Jack?” Shitty said.

“He’s being way too familiar, don’t you think?” Jack asked. 

“He knows your  _ internet famous extrovert ball of Russian sunshine _ boyfriend–” Shitty whispered, making air quotes in the middle of the sentence. “Maybe he thought you would be just as eager? Or maybe it’s just his Southern charm?” 

Jack took another drink of his coffee. It was nice and warm, just on the right side of hot while still drinkable. Something must have been off, though, perhaps he had drank too quickly, as Jack began coughing violently. Each cough shooting pain across his ribs. When the coughing fit was over, Jack’s breath tasted of iron. Shitty was looking at Jack as if he’d seen a ghost. 

“Dude, I was gonna say, man, karma.” Shitty’s expression shifted from scared to worried. “Are you feeling alright dude?” 

“No clue where that came from,” Jack said, breathing heavily. He cringed as he felt the swelling around his ribs pulse in pain. “Feels awful though.” 

“Yeah,” Shitty said. “Weirdest thing, though, when you were coughing just now? I could see your breath, it was white like smoke, dude.”

Jack looked at Shitty, confused, but before Shitty could elaborate, Eric appeared at their side again. 

“Here’s some water, hon,” Eric said, setting a glass on the table. 

“Uh, thanks?” Jack said, still confused about what had just transpired. “How did you have that over here so fast?” 

“I guess I just have a sixth sense for this sort of thing,” he said with a wink. 

Jack wondered to himself what exactly he meant by that. Had Eric messed with his drink? It tasted like a normal coffee. Jack looked down at the cup of water with suspicion. His throat didn’t feel irritated, so why had he coughed? 

“Mr. Zimmermann, I’m not trying to poison you, it’s just water.” Eric giggled a bit as he spoke.

“Then what–” 

“Jack he’s being hospitable, holy shit,” Shitty said, sounding exasperated. 

“Just had to make sure you weren’t haunted, hon. Something set off my wards when y’all walked in.” 

“Wait, what?” Shitty asked.

“Uh, definitely not haunted. Couldn’t I have told you that?” Jack said. 

“True, I suppose if you’re attuned to the spirits and such, you might have already known, but the average folk? Don’t usually know the first thing.”

Eric sat at the table adjacent to Jack and Shitty’s throwing a leg over his knee. 

“I really should have asked y’all for permission first, but it’s hard to throw that into a casual conversation.” 

“Yeah, probably…” Jack trailed off. He glanced at Shitty, pasting on a media smile, hoping Shitty registered Jack’s  _ “Is this guy nuts, or —?” _ line of thinking. 

“So, Jack,” Eric said, uncrossing his legs and leaning over the table. “You’re not haunted, but something is going on for sure. Have you angered any other witches lately? Interacted with any cursed objects?” 

“Does the Stanley cup count?” Shitty interjected. He seemed completely absorbed in whatever nonsense Eric was spewing.

“By all accounts, he rightfully won that one, hon,” Eric said. “From what I hear, the trophy is only cursed if you touch it without winnin’.” 

“This is ridiculous,” Jack said. He crossed his arms. “Magic isn’t real Shitty, I can have a bad season without the supernatural making more sense than coincidence. You can’t seriously be buying this.” 

“Jack-o, you’re the greatest player of our generation. And don’t try and sell yourself short. A run of bad luck like this can’t be natural. Something out there doesn’t want you to have a third Stanley.” 

Eric placed his hand over his mouth, thinking deep for a moment before speaking. Eric leveled his gaze with Jack’s making deadly-serious eye contact. 

“Maybe — and Jack, please don’t take this the wrong way, but honey, have you died before?” 

Jack froze. Shitty’s mouth was agape. Shitty turned to Jack, lowering his sunglasses so Jack could see his shocked expression properly. This guy had to be fucking with him.  _ Didn’t know about hockey,  _ his lying ass. Jack stood up from the table, without a word, handed Shitty his credit card and stormed out of the bakery. 

Jack went back to Alexei’s apartment, took Anje out to the courtyard, back upstairs, then started methodically dusting his own apartment. Shitty arrived half an hour later, pastries and credit card in tow. 

“Jack,” he began. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. I’m injured, I have to clean this apartment for my parents, then we can go pick them up. I don’t have time for any ghost stories. My ribs are broken because I got boarded. Not because the Schooner’s wizard goalie has it out for me.”

“Eric just wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for prying, and that you’re welcome at the bakery anytime. He promised a fresh start, no witchery or looking into your past, just a complimentary americano that he didn’t put any fairy dust in.” 

“Noted, Shits,” Jack said, returning to his work. “Will you be accepting ghosts as a valid alibi when you become a public defender?”

“I — I’ll get the vacuum.” 

“Thanks for helping me clean today.”

“Yeah.” 

Jack stretched to get the duster on top of the TV. His side throbbed some; at this point, he felt like it was a welcome distraction from the day. 


	4. Chapter 4

_X_

When Alexei finally got back from the trip, Jack didn’t talk to him about how meeting Eric went. He was happy about the pastries, he went back to the bakery on the way to practice, so Jack didn’t want to ruin his fun. Besides, it wasn’t like he and Eric needed to be best friends for Alexei to be friends with him. Alexei was way more social than Jack would ever be. 

Jack was spending another morning laying out on the couch, watching documentaries and doing light yoga intermittently. His trainer had given him the okay to do some body weight exercises, so long as he didn’t strain his core too much. When Alexei was out of the house, Jack secretly switched the TV to highlights and recorded games. Alexei didn’t think it was a good idea for him to dwell on the games he couldn’t have done anything about. Jack knew Alexei was at least partially right. He stood to gain nothing from looking at the Falcs’ win/loss and imagine how it might have been if he was at every game this season.

His parents’ visit had come and gone, without much more to their visit than their usual banter. They went to an upscale restaurant where they could dine in a private room, free from gawkers, asked about his college friends, his teammates, if he was seeing anyone — _No pressure if you aren’t Jack_. He loved them, but when he was injured it felt like he had to keep them at arm’s length. They wanted to fuss over him, as if he was seventeen again, not creeping up on thirty. His parents always wanted to remind him that he wasn’t the team. One player doesn’t change the game — except when they do. 

  
  
  


Jack was doing research on the Falcs’ next opponent (Niagra) when he heard the front door swing open. Jack flipped the TV channel back to History and switched his yoga position to something on his legs, rather than a side stretch. He closed his eyes and pretended to be in meditation. There was a rustling of paper bags and some Russian spoken at the dog. Jack could hear her bounding across the wood floor, excited by Alexei’s return as always. Jack switched into a gate pose, elongating his legs and his arm, decompressing the tension in his bruised side. He measured his breathing, falling into an actual meditation. Tater set the bags on the counter. Moments later Jack felt him pressing a kiss onto the crown of his head. Then a small laugh from Alexei and — the shutter sound of his phone camera? 

“Welcome back?” Jack asked, still confused at why Tater had taken a photo. 

“Hey,” Alexei said fondly. He wore a warm smile on his face. 

“What was the picture for?” 

“You see.” Alexei said with a chuckle.

As if on cue, Jack’s phone vibrated. Then Alexei’s and Jack’s both went off at the same time. Jack quirked an eyebrow and reached for his phone. 

**Potato Champ:** [photo post] Visit Zimmboni, find Ovi

**Snowy:** Christ, Jack, all the downtime is supposed to fucking make you stress out _less!_

  
  


**Marty:** MDR [crying laughing emoji] Looks like you’re joining us at the old guys table next breakfast.

  
  


**Thirdy:** First grays before kids, eh? Being old isn't so bad. 

The photo was an overhead view of Jack’s hair. There was a noticeable gray spot just right of center. It wasn’t just a few stray hairs either. This was a whole patch of gray. Not that Jack was really self-conscious about his appearance — but. 

  
  


**Me:** My dad doesn’t even have this much grey yet… I think it’s the not-playing. Hockey robot… malfunctioning… must play hockey….

  
  


**Guy:** You’ll be back soon enough. You’re too good to push yourself into an early retirement, kid.

**Poots:** [brain exploding emoji] Is this the first time Guy has ever written anything here?!?

Alexei laughed while reading everyone’s messages. He flopped down onto the couch, with Anje jumping up to lay beside him. Jack scooted across the floor, placing his head between his boyfriend’s legs. He leaned his head all the way back to look up at Tater. 

“It’s not bad is it?” Jack asked.

“Looks good!” Alexei said. He ran his fingers through Jack’s hair, lightly massaging the scalp. “Mature, handsome.” 

“I’m glad you like it, because I don’t think I’d want to experiment with dying it.” 

“ _Ziya_ , I’m like you no matter what, yeah?” Alexei leaned down to peck Jack’s forehead. “Hockey butt is nice, but we all age, I fall for guy that owns hockey butt.” 

“Heh, well that’s good,” Jack said, laughing at Alexei’s weird metaphor. “What’s going on with the team today, other than chirping my graying hair?” 

“Prepping for Niagara, you know. Watch tape, think of good chirps for players.”

“Sounds like fun.” Jack sighed, leaning his head against Alexei’s knee. “I suppose I’ll be in the press box for this one.” 

“Could be on TV, give Sharp run for money on most handsome hockey caster.” 

“Maybe...” Jack mused. He didn’t want to think about after hockey yet. His retirement was a long way off, if he had anything to say about it. “I definitely need to work on not locking up in front of the camera first.” 

“You can practice with me all you need.” 

“Are we shooting a Falcs Faceoff here in the living room?” 

“Yes, right now.” 

“So Mr. Mashkov,” Jack started. He was serious in tone, the way that every interviewer that had ever asked him anything was. “How does it feel to be the first Russian player under 30 to stop two empty-net goals on a Tuesday in January?” 

Alexei laughed, embracing Jack from behind. Jack loved how they understood each other so perfectly. He didn’t think hockey, age, injury, or magical nonsense could disrupt how well they fit together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MDR= LOL in French. Literally: Mort de Rire= Death of/by laughter
> 
> Also if you don't follow IRL hockey, that's really what the interviewers and commentators sound like when they quote obscure stats that mean nothing to anyone but analysts.


	5. Chapter 5

_X_

  
About two weeks later, on a Sunday, Jack and Alexei were walking Anje to the farmer’s market. It was the last day before another roadie, but Jack was going on this one. They were planning on getting him cleared to play by Thursday's game in Houston at the latest. Jack was practicing in a no contact jersey and trying to make up for lost time. They were dropping Anje off at Haus 2.0 in Boston later tonight, then leaving for Atlanta in the morning. 

They were browsing some stalls, not really intending to buy anything more than what they were eating today. Signing autographs every now and again, but genuinely just enjoying a calm morning off together. That was, until Anje caught a whiff of something and yanked Jack roughly to the side. She wasn’t strong enough to pull him off his feet, but she did pull the back of Jack’s hand into a wooden crate, scraping it slightly.

“Hey!” Jack exclaimed as she jumped on her hind legs, trying to run out of his grip towards whatever she was smelling. Alexei said some things to her in Russian and miraculously she calmed down.

“Want me to hold leash?” he asked. 

“It’s fine as long as she’s not flipping out.”

Alexei nodded. “Your hand okay?”

“Just a scratch ba–” Jack said, halting himself before he called Tater  _ babe _ in public. “I don’t know why she only listens to you. 

“I think she doesn’t understand English.”

“And Russian is easier?” 

“Very easy if you don’t have to learn alphabet, which dogs have no problem.” Alexei chuckled as Anje continued walking ahead of them briskly, following the scent of whatever had grabbed her attention. 

“Well, look who it is!” exclaimed a familiar voice. A voice with a Southern drawl. A voice which belonged to a crackpot that Jack wanted nothing to do with. 

_ “Erinya!” _ Alexei called out.

Jack was just going to tough it out and be polite, Alexei would probably dominate the conversation anyway.

“What brings you boys to market on a fine February day?” 

“Just browsing,” Alexei said. “We leaving to Texas tomorrow.” 

“Oh, well I wish you two luck! And Jack —” Eric set his hand on Jack’s arm. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, sorry for being so forward last time we met, I hope you can forgive me.” 

Jack balked at Eric’s touch. Again, so personal. “It’s fine,” he said, tersely. 

“Jack is very slow to warm up,” Alexei explained. “I make him go to so many places in Providence before he admit he like me even as friend, much arm twisting is involved.” 

Jack didn’t know what to say to that. He supposed Tater annoyed him similarly at the beginning of his first season. He had insisted on being friends with Jack since his first day on the Falcs, Jack got used to it from the constant proximity and eventually that turned into fondness. Reaching deeper, he guessed that was how his friendship with Shitty had started also. Maybe he was being unfair. 

“I — guess I’m sorry for being suspicious of your hospitality,” Jack admitted. “ The whole situation was too much at once I think.”

Eric looked up from the belly rub he’d begun to give Anje. “No, no, I should have known better than to cast suspicion on my guests, my Shushie taught me better’n that.” Eric squinted as he looked at Jack, as if he was looking past him, definitely not going for eye-contact. 

“I’m confused,” Alexei said, “Why is Jack suspicious?” 

“Honey, did you dye your hair?” Eric asked, looking at the grayed patch poking out from beneath his Falcs’ toque. 

“Euh, no…” 

Alexei laughed a little. “He is just very stress from not being able to play, making gray hairs sprout overnight.” 

Eric’s expression changed to one of thought. Jack didn’t like the direction this conversation was going in. Eric said some stuff in Russian to Alexei, it sounded like a question. Alexei’s eyes widened and he replied with a long rumbling response. 

Jack adored the way it sounded when he spoke Russian. Alexei was confidently wrong when he spoke English, but in Russian, well Jack had no way of telling if he was correct. Jack just knew he loved it. He should really start throwing himself into learning the language. 

“Okay, so —” Eric said in English, bringing Jack back into the conversation. “Sorry for not doing it in English but I didn’t have a good way to say what I thought was going on because I was taught about it in Russian first…” 

“Alexei, what is going on?” he asked. 

“Eric is thinking you might be sick.” 

“I’m fine Tate, they’re clearing me to play, like — tomorrow,” Jack said, perplexed. How did Eric think him having graying hair was being sick? Did he think it had something to do with ghosts again? Did Alexei think —? 

“Not physically sick,” Eric explained. “Spiritually.”

“Alexei you don’t seriously believe in this, do you?” 

“Is something I’m learning about very young,  _ Ziya. _ Your grandmother not tell you stories about the way of world?” 

“I mean we had fairy tales, but those are just stories. They teach kids morals with monsters as plot devices.” 

“Okay, sugar, so I know your grandma wasn’t Russian, but those stories? They aren’t all fake.”

Jack rolled his eyes, “So what is it that I need to do? Do I have to wait in a tower to be rescued? True love’s kiss?” 

“Nothing quite so fun, Jack.” Eric said. He looked around at the busy farmer’s market. “We should probably sit down somewhere, away from too many people listening in. Since you don’t really know what’s going on, it’s a lot of information.” 

“Uh?” Jack was still totally baffled that grown men, including his boyfriend, were talking about magic and ghosts to him like they were an everyday occurrence. “Is this really necessary?” 

“Yes, Jack,” Eric said. 

“Jack _ , _ ” Alexei grasped his hand, firmly. “This is very serious if what he tell me is true. I’m not think about it before, but because you have accident in high school is —” Alexei cut off the sentence and rumbled out something in Russian to Eric. “I’m not knowing words in English but Eric explain more, he is much more qualify.” 

“Right, okay.” Jack sighed. He supposed he could entertain their worrying over nothing for a little while.

Eric guided them around to a small café with outdoor seating. They ordered some drinks and a bowl of water for the dog, then Eric began to explain. He told Jack that because he’d had a near-death experience, he’d dipped into the spirit world. 

“When you come that close to death, it keeps a small piece of you on the other side.” Eric sipped his heavily-sugared tea. “Evidently nobody in your family knew that there was a spiritual healing that you need to do on top of the physical healing.”

“So what can be done?” Alexei asked. Jack just wanted to leave. 

“Well, I’ll have to get in contact with my Shushie back in Georgia to see if she knows of somethin’ permanent. For now I can cook up something for y’all to take on your trip, which should act as a deterrent for any odd happenings.”

“Is all your food magical?” Jack asked. He wondered just how deep Eric’s lunacy went. Was he putting weird “magic herbs” in all his pastries? Maybe that’s what made Shitty like them so much. 

“Magic only comes with intent, Jack.” Eric said, nonchalantly. “It would be a waste of energy to enchant everything I sold.” 

“Right, okay.” Jack rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. Four-thirty. He had to pack for tomorrow soon or he’d surely forget something. “So, what happens if I don’t do anything?” 

“Generally, the bad stuff that’s been goin’ on gets worse. Imagine, Jack, if you consider that the piece of you that’s missing is like a plug in a drain. It didn’t re-seal all the way the last time it was closed, so you’ve just been leakin’ and leakin’ for years. I suppose now you’re at the point where spirits around you have begun to notice. All these accidents you’ve had, your hair going gray, general bad luck. All that’s ‘cause of them.” 

“So…” 

“I’ll getcha some of my good luck soup and pastries whipped up. I don’t really know how much it’ll help but I think it’ll be some use to tide you over ‘til I get more info.” 

“I can have some pastry too?” Alexei asked. “Need luck for winning hockey games.”

“Yes, of course,  _ Alyosha _ .” Eric stifled a giggle. “I’m not sure if luck magic counts as performance enhancing, you’ll have to ask the players association.” 

“I honestly doubt they could test for it if they wanted to,” Jack deadpanned. “Difficult to prove.” 

“There could be witches in the organization, you never know,” Eric said with a wink. 

“Right–” 

“When can I come by shop?” Alexei asked. 

“I should only need a couple hours, if I’m not done, we can chat until I finish, but I’ll see you boys later.” With that, Eric got up from his chair, waved and was off. 

“Don’t spend too much money on this stuff, ‘Lyosha.” 

“No, is a good thing for you Jack. Will help you get over bad stuff that is happen. Besides, if you don’t patch leak soon, Eric say you may start to see spirits.” 

“This is a bad thing?” 

“ _ Da _ , babushka is saying they are very scary.”

“Hm.” Jack hummed, wondering how far he should humor his boyfriend. A little longer couldn’t hurt. They left some large tip for the server and headed home. Jack still wasn’t sure he believed all this supernatural witch stuff. So far everything could still be coincidence. But if it wasn’t, he could use a bit of luck to get his season back on track, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shushie is a cute diminuitive of Babushka, Russian for grandma. At least according to my grandma... So Moomaw is known as Shushie in this verse.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's about to get real ooky spooky y'all.

_X_

  
  


The Falconers arrived in Houston to a warm breezy day. It was practically a heat wave compared to the chill of Providence’s February weather. Jack endured a slew of chirps about his greyed out hair, went to team dinner, then checked into his and Alexei’s suite. 

The small cooler that housed the supplies Eric had sent with him as “treatment” for his “condition” sat, staring at Jack from the minibar. Alexei hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of a few of the piroshky, but restrained himself for Jack’s sake. 

Jack didn’t really want them. This was all just some overhyped Russian superstition. He would choke down a bowl of reheated beet purée before the game to appease Alexei and God willing, score a goal. If he got a point streak and stayed off of injured reserve for the rest of the season, they would probably leave him be. Probably… For now, Alexei and the majority of the team were just goofing around at the hotel bar, too early for dinner, too late for lunch. Jack never was much for going out before games, especially now that he had so much to worry about. 

The Falcs weren’t statistically out of the playoffs yet, but they would need a near miraculous winning streak to get a wildcard spot. Jack was gonna push himself to get them there. He needed to prove he was still worthy of the A on his sweater. He needed to prove he was a better investment than two seasons. He needed to fight his way back into the top players list. Win or lose, he was going to put himself through hell this summer training. 

Jack turned on the TV, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts with some highlights. All was normal, none of the teams in the league had gained points out of nowhere. There was a day-to-day injury on the Schooners that was new, but nothing that would spoil their playoff chances, probably. Jack found himself glazing over, focusing on the glare from the open window against the screen rather than what was actually happening on it. He should get up to close the blinds. 

Before he could motivate himself to stand, he felt a chill breeze blow in through the window. The power in the hotel room surged, then went out. That was odd. The weather was clear, so maybe a fuse had blown or someone doing construction outside had accidentally hit a buried cable. Jack thought about poking his head into the hallway to see if it was just his room or the whole hotel. His phone chimed with a notification. Jack had left it over by the vanity outside the bathroom. 

As he stood from his position seated on the bed, something caught his eye. A weird shadow stood in the glare of light on the TV screen. The sunbeam cut through the room onto the blackened screen. Jack couldn’t see anything in the room, but the ray of light showed something casting a long angular shape across the screen. 

_ Probably something outside _ . 

Jack crossed the room to get his phone. Another breeze, Jack was struck with a full body chill. He shuddered. He saw his phone over on the bathroom counter. The screen lit and his phone chimed again. He finished closing the distance and put his hand on his phone. 

**Tate:** Miss you already ))

**Tate:** Power is out at bar, finishing drink and coming back up ;)

Jack smiled at his phone and opened the messages to reply. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the reflection of the sunbeam in his peripherals. The odd shadow was still there. But, how could that be possible? Light doesn’t work like that. If it was outside making a shape on the TV, how could it still be in the room? 

Jack set his phone back on the counter and looked warily at the shadow behind himself in the mirror. The shadow  _ visibly rotated  _ to face the mirror. A chill raced up and down his spine. The shadow seemed to coalesce into a vaguely humanoid shape as Jack watched, motionless. The temperature in the room was bottoming out, as if Jack was in Montreal in February rather than Houston. 

He hadn’t seen it when he walked through the room. Only in the reflection of the TV and the mirror. Was this what Alexei and Eric had been warning him about? Were they actually telling the truth? 

Jack had to be dreaming. That was the only rational explanation. He’d seen this shape before. He’d been having these recurring nightmares about a shadowy figure since he was first stuck at home. But the weight of his phone felt real when he picked it up, he was aware of himself moving across the room. He had felt the breeze from the window a few times. This was the first time he had been so active with his decisions in a dream, usually he was just along for the ride. 

What should he do now? What could he do now? Turning to face the figure seemed like the best way to get rid of it, right? It wasn’t visible outside of the reflections. Unless, that was what the figure wanted. It was all too stressful. 

Jack watched the figure begin to move towards him in the mirror. His adrenaline was spiking, but his legs didn’t want to move. Jack watched it move towards him in the reflection for seconds, minutes, hours, an eternity. It wasn’t walking, exactly. Just advancing, slowly, steadily, staying directly behind him. 

Moments later, Jack heard the door handle jiggle, then loud knocking. Of course, the power being out meant Alexei couldn’t unlock the door. 

“Zimmboniiiii, wake up!” Alexei called from the other side of the door. Jack was definitely awake. He just couldn’t do anything. Jack continued watching, frozen, as the figure stopped just behind him. Shadowy arms coiled around his waist. He saw the fingers spread out in the mirror, then tighten around him, at least it looked like they did, but Jack didn’t feel any pressure. 

“Jack, you in there!?” Alexei asked, voice even louder than usual. 

_ Yes, babe, please— _ Jack thought to himself. He couldn’t form the words. His jaw clenched tight.

The shadow in the mirror smiled, revealing a row of pristine white teeth. The hand around his waist moved up caressing his chest, over his jawline, to the apparition’s mouth. Jack felt like someone was rubbing ice across his body, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. The shadow laughed a light chuckle, though the sound didn’t seem to come from anywhere in particular. Maybe it was just in Jack’s head, yet, it felt like someone was breathing down his neck… 

_ “Want,” _ the voice echoed in his head. 

Jack shivered again. Whatever the thing in the mirror was, it wanted him specifically. The figure rose up behind him, letting go of his body and drifting up through the ceiling. As it departed, the lights came back on. The TV lit up. Jack released all the tension out of his body and exhaled. 

Jack hustled to the door to let Alexei in. 

“ _ Ziya! _ ” He exclaimed when Jack yanked the door open. “You’re being alive!” Alexei was flushed from alcohol and exaggerating, but Jack didn’t want to guess at how close to the other side he actually was.

Jack pulled Alexei into the room wordlessly and wrapped him in a crushing hug. The kind he was used to receiving rather than giving. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Alexei said laughing, his voice softened. “I know I’m say I miss you, but has only been two hour.” 

Jack made sure the door was closed, then kissed Alexei. 

“Jack, you’re okay?” Alexei asked. Jack still hadn’t managed to say anything. “You’re — crying?” Alexei ran the back of his fingers over Jack’s cheek. 

Alexei held Jack until he was calmed down enough to form words. Jack told Alexei what he had seen. He described the odd sensations, the way it wasn’t visible except in reflections, the cold, and the word it had placed in his head. Meanwhile, Alexei warmed up some of Eric’s soup in the microwave, holding Jack’s hand the whole time, just so Jack knew he was still there. 

With his other hand Jack held one of Eric’s pastries. The butter and sweet apple mingled in his mouth. The taste reminded him of winters long past, baked apples with his grandparents in front of an open fire. Jack was starting to believe Eric knew what he was doing, at least in regards to baking. Jack was willing to try just about anything at this point not to relive that absolute terror he had just been through. 

Alexei sat with him, their hands still linked as he stirred the soup in front of Jack. The small desk and chairs in the suite were hardly adequate for the two of them to sit next to each other, but Jack didn’t think he could handle being alone right now. 

Jack took the first spoonful of the soup from the container to his lips. Borscht, Alexei called it. Jack had probably heard of it before, but it wasn’t something on the menu back home. A thick mixture of beets and cabbage, so obviously Russian. 

“I’m right here with you  _ Ziya _ ,” Alexei said, his voice soothing and calm. Much lower than his usual upbeat demeanor. “I stay right next to you all night and spirits will have answer to me if they want to mess with you.” 

“Thanks, Tate.” Jack continued eating. Alexei rested his head on Jack’s shoulder, bringing their hands on top of each other on Jack’s lap. It made it a little difficult to eat, but Jack wasn’t about to object to any physical affection right now. 

“Got your back, always.” Alexei assured him. Jack’s whole body felt warm again, a combination of food, love, and maybe a dash of magic had certainly lifted his mood. He turned and planted a kiss on Alexei’s forehead. 

Jack supposed they would have to talk to Eric about this when they got back. Hopefully Eric had been able to contact his grandma for a cure. Jack wasn’t sure his heart could take another event like that. For now at least, he simply leaned into Alexei’s touch, relishing the warmth and safety he emanated. 


	7. Chapter 7

_X_

Jack opened the door to his and Alexei’s shared apartment. Alexei followed with Anje on her leash, fresh from Haus 2.0’s care. He felt completely drained of energy. The games had been difficult. He hadn’t played in so long before the roadie. Houston, Kansas City, and Omaha rounded out their tour of the Central division. It could be that he was tired from the games, but he was beginning to expect that it wasn’t just the games that had exhausted him. 

The harrowing experience he’d had in Houston was sticking in his brain. He couldn’t logic away what he’d seen. The sensations he’d felt. How the power went out for the entire building timed specifically with this episode. They’d had brief communications with Eric describing the event and Eric had apparently taken to researching a solution the whole week they’d been gone. Since then, Jack hadn’t had any more visitations that he knew of, but he was certain he’d seen something in the locker room in Kansas City. More recently, he thought someone was in the backseat on their ride home from the airport. He was too terrified to look at the rearview mirror.

Eric was due to arrive within the hour. Jack hoped that he had some sort of cure ready. He didn’t want to worry about seeing any more spirits. 

Jack set himself to putting their clothes in the laundry. Sorting clean clothes, any repetitive task he could use to distract himself from the concepts of reality he was slowly starting to lose his understanding for. It was as stressed as he had been in years. 

“ _ Ziya _ ,” Alexei said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know is bad, but. Is not so bad. Everything will be fine soon, yes?”

“Yeah,” Jack said. He didn’t fully trust his own words. “I just don’t know what to believe anymore. Ghosts are real, they can interact with me, talk to me, touch me.” He felt weird and paranoid talking about it, but the experience had really shaken him to his core. 

“Eric will be able to make them leave.” Alexei said. 

“Do other people have to put up with this all the time?” 

“Perhaps,” Alexei said. “Most people don’t have to think about, usually ghost stay away from people unless is their fault they die. Or they are stuck in particular place.”

“So I’m just special, huh?” Jack chuckled nervously. 

“Yes, is unfortunate case,” Alexei shrugged. “ _ Erinya  _ will help.” 

As if on cue, a knock came at their door. Jack dropped the laundry he was in the middle of sorting onto the bed and hurried to the door. He opened it, revealing Eric wearing an almost comically large backpack. Jack motioned for him to come inside.

“Hey, Jack,” Eric put his hand over Jack’s chest. “I know you hate the idea of all this, but I’ll try to get it dealt with as quick as possible for ya.” 

“No, I —” Jack started. He placed his hand over Eric’s. “I wanted to apologize for not believing you. I was really bitter about being injured and I spoke way too harshly to someone who was trying to help.” 

“Right, well —” Eric was blushing. “I think we can put off the making nice until after we sort this out, yeah?” 

“Right.” Jack became aware of how much he had moved into Eric’s space and took a step back. “Make yourself comfortable, Eric.” 

“I brought some supplies,” Eric said, setting the backpack on the kitchen table with a dull thud. “Wasn’t sure what y’all would have on hand.” 

“Haven’t gone grocery shopping yet,” Alexei chimed in. He joined them in the kitchen. “Need help with anything?”

“Not especially.” Eric withdrew an array of tupperware containers, kitchen utensils, and even a stockpot from the bag. Jack looked on, not sure what to do with himself. “You two can take it easy for now. It will take a while to brew everything.” 

“Okay.” Jack looked around at the house. “Anything at all we can do to minimize me seeing another spirit while we wait?” 

Eric sighed, set down the last bin of herbs from his now empty bag and looked to Jack. 

“It was that bad, huh?” Eric asked. Jack nodded in response. “For now, just cover all the reflective surfaces, close blinds and drapes, and turn all the lights on. Avoid dark corners and being alone. Then, let me work, honey.” 

Jack set to doing as Eric said, Alexei following him around the house a few paces behind. They settled on cuddling in bed after they finished, Alexei holding onto Jack while a variety of smells traveled through the house. Alexei broke the silence in the darkened room. 

“So you like Eric now?” 

“He’s doing me a favor, so yeah.” 

“Just a service, nothing more?” 

“No — It’s weird, okay? I was frustrated before, I took it out on him because nothing about him made sense.” 

“So there is something.” 

“He was trying to help from the start, Tate. You know that, I understand now.” 

“And now you notice how cute he is, like I’m saying.” 

Jack turned to look at Alexei, who was smiling back at him. Count on his boyfriend to read him like a book. 

“Maybe a little.” Jack admitted, grudgingly. “Have you said anything to him about it?” 

“I do nothing but flirt and compliment pastry when he’s around, I think he knows how much I like.” 

“Can we revisit this once my exorcism or whatever is dealt with?” 

Alexei poked at Jack’s ribs, tickling him, then pulled him closer. 

“Yes, definitely not rush decision. We ask him out after ritual.”

Jack let go of all the tension he was holding in his muscles and just let Alexei squeeze him. He was so glad his ribs weren’t bruised anymore. Being totally enveloped in his arms made Jack feel so soft inside. He wondered how his growing fondness for Eric would fit into their routine. Alexei’s similar feelings certainly helped assuage the doubts he’d had regarding the situation. 

Jack must have dozed off for a while, because he found himself being softly roused, Tater’s hand stroking his cheek. 

“Mm, Tate?” he said groggily.

“ _ Erinya  _ say is nearly time.” 

“Do we need to do anything?” 

“He just tell me to be ready soon, come out to kitchen when you are ready.” 

Jack rolled out of bed and followed Alexei. They sat at the kitchen table while Eric ladled some concoction into one of the bowls he’d brought along. 

“Am I supposed to eat this?” Jack said, staring down at the green paste Eric had just set before him. 

“Nope,” Eric said, continuing his work. “Just sit tight a few more minutes, sugar.”

“Whatever you say, Bittle.” Jack rested his arms on the table. 

“Using my last name now, isn’t that too formal?” Eric whisked away at one pot while pulling a kettle off the heat. It whistled just once before Eric placed it on a towel. 

“Actually is a good thing,” Alexei explained. “Means he like you more now. Next he be giving you nickname.” 

“Oh my stars,” Bittle said without turning. “Y’all are too much.” He poured the water from the kettle into a small teapot, straining leaves with a sieve and decanting simultaneously. Jack was impressed with how efficiently he worked. 

“You’re really a wizard in the kitchen, eh?” 

“I think a witch might be more accurate,” he chuckled softly. “A yaga if you care to split hairs.”

“Be careful not to mess with,” Alexei said. “Don’t want to be on a witch’s bad side.” 

“Aw, I’d never,” Bittle said, laughing again. Jack was curious if his flush was from effort or embarrassment. He seemed to be right at home, cooking away while Jack and Alexei looked on. The casual atmosphere of the scene nearly made Jack forget why Eric was in their kitchen in the first place. 

Eric placed a bowl of ice in front of Jack and then set one of the pans from the stove directly into it. It looked like some sort of beet mash. Bittle sat across from Jack at the table and procured one final item from his bag. A silver flask, complete with a matching cup. 

“Ready, hon?” 

“I suppose so,” Jack replied.

“Good, so first thing, take off your shirt and lie on the floor.” 

“Okay?” Jack said quizzically, but complied. The tile of the kitchen was cool against his back. He stared up at the dark ceiling and waited. 

“Great, next, I’m gonna ask y’all to stay quiet, because I can’t stop once I’ve gotten started or apparently it won’t work. Sushie told me that I’d probably need silence so I don’t get knocked off my rhythm.” Bittle looked down on Jack from above. Jack nodded to indicate his understanding. 

A soft smile crossed Jack’s lips out of nowhere. Bittle matched the expression and knelt on the floor beside him. 

“ _ Lyosha,  _ I’ll need you to hand me supplies while I’m working from here okay?” He smiled, rosy cheeked as Alexei nodded in turn. “I could get used to this, you know. Two big, strong guys, following my every command.” Jack noticed a glint in Bittle’s eyes that he hadn’t before. Perhaps Jack had underestimated him again. 

The ritual began. Bittle lit a series of tealights, one after another, arranging them on the floor around Jack. He spoke some quick words in Russian. Alexei handed him the flask. He swiftly opened it, filling the cup, then dipped his fingers inside. He drew a circle with his wetted fingers over Jack’s forehead. It had a tingling sensation that Jack was able to place as he recognized the smell of alcohol. 

More Russian, The teapot came into Jack’s view. 

“Close your eyes, please.” 

Jack did, he soon felt droplets of the warm tea splashing gently over his face and body, like a warm summer rain. Tension seemed to be fleeing his mind and body in places he didn’t even know he was storing it. Then he tensed as Bittle began spreading some sort of sticky substance over his chest. 

“Sorry, should have warned you.” 

Bittle whispered something in Russian again. 

“Hey, so I have to kiss you for the next part.  _ Alyosha’s  _ cool with it. Oh, and you can open your eyes, if you want.” Jack opened his eyes. Bittle was applying the beet mash to his lips with some sort of makeup tool. Bittle leaned over Jack, he was blushing again. 

“Ready?” he asked. Jack nodded and inhaled. Their lips met for an instant, Jack tasted the sweet and mineral flavor of the beets, then Bittle pulled back, kissing each of his cheeks and then his jawline and neck in turn. Jack felt tense all over again, not the same reason as before, but still. The final kiss was on his forehead, just inside the spot Bittle had spread the alcohol. 

Eric drew himself back up, breathing labored. 

“Alright, y’all, he said, between pants. “It’s done, sorry if that was weird.” 

“Believe it or not,” Jack chirped, “not the worst first kiss I’ve had.” 

“Oh, you hush Mr. Zimmermann!” Bittle protested. 

“Is true,” Alexei chimed in. “I see him kiss some guy at bar in Vegas, kiss is looking horrible.  _ Ziya  _ way out of his league. Then I cut in, say, no this is how is done.” 

“No way.” 

“Nah, that really happened,” Jack said. “The kiss was truly awful.” 

“Well I’m glad, I’m not the worst kisser, then. Even if it was just because I had to for some ancient magic ritual.” 

“What did that do, anyway?” Jack asked.

“Oh, I forgot to explain!” Bittle smacked his forehead. “How silly of me.” 

“You seem to to that a lot.”

“Like I said, I get distracted,” Bittle groused. “Anyway, that was an aura mask. It should make you invisible to the spirits now.” 

“Forever?” 

“Probably!” Bittle said cheerfully. “Though you should keep my number just in case it wears off for some reason, like if you aimlessly wander into a cleansing circle.” 

Jack wasn’t really sure how he’d manage that, but he was glad to hear it was at least a semi-permanent solution. 

“Also you can put your shirt back on,” Bittle said. “That is, if you want to...” 

“Can I rinse this gunk off myself?” Jack asked.

“Oh yeah, that too.” 

“So forgetful.” 

“Tease me all you like,” he said. “I did just do you a favor, and I could undo just as quick.” 

“All right, you got me there, I’ll shower and be right back. Thanks again.” 

“I help with dishes?” Alexei asked. 

“Of course you can,” Eric replied. 

Jack hopped in the shower and cleaned what was left of the paste of herbs Eric had spread across his body. He changed into some loose Falcs athletic gear from the pile of laundry he’d previously abandoned and rejoined the pair in the kitchen. When he walked in, the two were giggling, flicking soap bubbles at each other, and generally being too damn adorable to be left to their own devices. Jack wedged himself in between the two of them.

“So, Bitty,” Jack began. “I think I might use your number for more than just supernatural emergencies if that’s alright by you?”  _ Smooth, Zimmermann. _

“Oh honey, you can text me anytime.” 

“Wow, gets nickname in one day, he very much like you.” Alexei said.

Jack pulled his phone out of his pocket and started a new text message. 

**Me:** Date me?

  
  
Bitty stepped back from the sink and looked at his phone with surprise. 

“This is so cheesy, I’ve got half a mind to say no.” 

“Yes, he is boring old man, date me instead!” Alexei said, scooping him into a hug off the floor. 

“Ack! Jack, get me down!” 

“Come on, Tate, we can share.” Jack said, chuckling. He joined in on hugging Bitty, pressing into the hug from the other side.

“Okay, y’all, I accept!” Bitty said, muffled between them. 

“Glad to hear!” Alexei boomed over the group. He set Bitty down and Jack backed off as well. “But since I’m not getting to earlier…” Alexei dove back in to kiss Bitty. 

“Seems my luck’s improving already,” Jack said. 

“Boyfriends and no more ghost, in same day,” Alexei said, breaking away from Bitty, who looked absolutely blissed out. “Is good day to me.” 

“I can work on fixin’ your hair next, sugar.” 

“You know, I actually think I’ve gotten used to it.” Jack said. 

“The silver fox look does suit you well,” Bitty said, nodding. 

“Reminds me of Ovi, but I can deal.” Alexei ruffled his hair and pulled him back into the embrace. 

Jack’s worries about the remainder of the season were far from his mind. His life was better than back on track. He was charting a course for a new normal and it was one that he had no issue diving into headfirst. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This was a bit of a departure from my standard domestic fluff. Sort of an unseasonable Halloween fic? Anywho, if you enjoyed it I'd appreciate any comments you'd like to leave me.


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